LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap... Copyright No. 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



GRANDFATHER'S 



Stories in Rhyme 



3i 



By 



M.lb.lR. 



A, D. 1900 



THE LEEDS & BIDDLE CO. 

Printers and Publishers 

J0I9-2I Market St. 

Philadelphia, Pa. 



rj-vVO COPIES RECEIVED. 

Library of COBg^llH 
Office of \U 

M'^^'S -1900 

Hcjfister of Copyright* 






\Cf60 



Copyright, 1900 
By M^iIvLiam H, Nicholson 



f^^cv 



SECOND COPY, Z^ /^ 



T>ediCdtion 
To My Grandchildren. 
M}' little boys, I like your noise — 
' Tis sound most sweet my ears to greet ; 
Then cojue this ivay a7id make a stay, 
Increase my joys, my little boys. 
The cat may purr when sinoothed its fur. 
And roosters crow the best they know, 
The dog may bark, loud sing the lark, 
Yet best your noise I like, my boys. 
Tho' bees may hum, woodpeckers drum, 
Screech loud the owls, cackle the fowls, 
Tho' cows may low, and wi^ids may blow, 
Give me your noise, my little boys. 
A darksome day, when you' re away. 
Needs you about with me?'ry shout, 
To cheer the way, make bright the day, 
Dispel the blues while sad I muse 
And tniss your noise, my little boys. 
And you, my girls, a string of pcaiis. 
Winsome and bright, with hearts so light, 
And laughter gay in guileless way, 
To me you' re dear, now life is sere. 
Tho' less your noise than marks my boys, 
You have a place of sweeter g7'ace. 
And with the boys give added joys. 
So to you all, both great and small, 
1 710W iiidite, if they invite. 
These homely rhymes, on former times, 
Whe7i young like you, a boy I grezv. 



W. H. N. 




THE YELLOW DOG, 



When grandpa was a little boy 

Full sixty years ago, 
One winter's day, he thought he'd play 

Upon the frozen snow. 
But how without a sled could he 

Go coasting on the hill ? 
And all alone he tried to find 

Some thing its place to fill. 
Now your papa has been so kind 

Your hearts have never bled 
To think you'd have to play in snow 

Without a pretty sled. 
But grandpa lived in earlier days 

Where boys were not so blest, 

5 



Aiid had to try some other way 

To have the fun in quest. 
No playmate had your grandpa then, 

He sallied out alone, 
Determined to enjoy himself 

Without a sigh or moan. 
He thought it would be ver}^ nice 

Upon the slippery hill, 
To something have to ride upon 

With joy his heart to fill. 
He thought and thought, and looked around , 

If so he might espy 
A thing his purpose to fulfill — 

Adown the hill to fly. 
Then underneath a little shed. 

He found a short smooth board, 
Just big enough to sit upon 

The pleasure to afford. 
'Twas afternoon, the board he seized, 

A shingle it was. called, 
And hied him to the slippery hill 

Happy, and unappalled. 
On top the hill he laid his board 

And sat upon it straight. 
He gave a kick, and down the hill 

He slid a lively rate. 
The bottom reached, he took his board 

Atop the hill again. 



And up, and down, he gaily went 

Till day began to wane. 
He noticed it was getting dark, 

He laid his board away, 
And started for his pleasant home, 

Much as he'd liked to stay. 
By time he reached his father's barn, 

Real dark it did appear ; 
Your grandpa was a timid lad 

And he began to fear. 
It only was a little way 

To reach the kitchen now, 
But what stood in the path to it 

So like a big bow-wow ? 
He stopped quite still, though cold the air, 

And thought, what shall I do ? 
I'm here, and see the kitchen lights. 

And people there in view. 
So don't you think 'tw^as wise in him 

To shout a loud halloo ? 
'* Halloo! " he said, but no one heard 

When first he thus had cried 
So louder still, he shouted it 

And then they heard inside. 
Then Henry opened wide the door 

To learn who shouted so 
And finding whom it was, he cried 

"Suppose 370U let us know 



Wli}^ you stand calling there so loud 

Upon the frozen snow?" 
Then grandpa said, "I'm 'fraid to come 

For there 'twixt you and me 
Is a great ugly yellow dog 

As you must plainly see." 
Then Henry said, '* I see no dog, 

Come run along to me." 
Then grandpa said, " I know there is, 

'Tis plain as plain can be." 
Then Henry came right past the dog. 

Nor seemed to fear at all, 
And took your grandpa by the hand 

And led him on withal. 
Right by that dog they passed along, 

No growl or bark it gave; 
But grandpa soon the reason found 

Why Henry was so brave : 
For would you think, that fearful dog 

Your grandpa thought he saw, 
Was but a red wheelbarrow there, 

That touched his heart wdth awe. 
He was somewhat ashamed to find 

He had been so deceived. 
But b3^ a warm and blazing fire 

He soon was quite relieved. 
His hands and feet and ears were warmed, 

His supper then he ate, 



He kissed his pa, and then his ma, 
And went to bed quite late. 

No doubt he slept a solid sleep 
Till heard the roosters crow. 

When up he bounced again to play 
Upon the frozen snow. 




THE SUN BONNET. 



A boy in sun-bonnet, 
You may depend on it, 

Feels sheepish and shy as can be. 
Your grandpa is witness, 
Who felt its unfitness, 

When but a small fellow was he. 
His mother so loved him 
She purposely clothed him 

To save his complexion and clothes; 
Nor knew a bo}^ hated 
To be so instated. 

And dressed in a way that he loathes. 
A little sun-bonnet 
His head must have on it. 

An apron to shield him from dirt, 



Then he could go playing, 
In sunshine go straying, 

And not suffer sun-burn or hurt. 
Your grandpa submitted, 
Though feeling unfitted 

To meet any stranger that came, 
And ran into hiding, 
There closely abiding 

Until way was opened again. 

Your grandpa loved driving, 
And always was striving 

For chances to manage a horse, 
Nor ever omitted, 
When he was permitted. 

To ride in a wagon, of course. 

When Prince was put to it. 
Sure was he to do it, 

And take up the lines for a start. 
And with your attention, 
At once I will mention 

How thus he was caught in a cart. 
Now, never was chappie 
Than grandpa more happy, 

When once, in a cart with the men, 
He had on his bonnet 
Nor thought a word on it. 

Nor dreamed to be caught in it then. 
Now Prince he admired 



And never was tired 
Of viewing the bonnv black beast ; 
No thought that a stranger 
His joy would endanger 
Did trouble his heart in the least. 

But, lo ! Jimm}^ Glover, 

Drew nigh in the clover 
Field close by the side of the lane; 

Though slowly he gat on 

With broad brim-ed hat on, 
As he walked with a very long cane. 
" Look ! there's Jimmy Glover 

Right near in the clover," 
Said one of the men in the cart. 

Then grandpa, his bonnet, 

Pulled hard the strings on it, 
But couldn't the bonnet-strings part. 

At once he stopped driving 

As closely arriving 
He took- Jimmy Glover in view, 

When flatly he got him 

Down on the cart's bottom, 
The only thing that he could do. 

There lying he waited 

Till Jimmy vacated, 
When finished his talk with the men, 

Then cautiously rising, 

Resumed exercising 
The pleasure of driving again. 

12 




A SLEIGH RIDE. 

A sleigh-ride in my earlier days 

Was an especial treat, 
Though cold the air, and scant the wraps, 

And cushionless the seat. 
I now recall a thrilling ride 

Had on a winter's day, 
Which so impressed my memory 

It lingers there to stay. 
Then brightly rose the morning sun, 

Snow covered all the ground, 
The sleighing good and cold the air, 

Oh, how my heart did bound 
To find my father was prepared. 

If mother wished to go, 



13 



To see her sister then in town, 

By sleighing through the snow. 
My mother and her Cousin R. 

Approved of such a course, 
So father to the sleigh hitched up 

Old Bob, his favorite horse. 
A lot of good things then we took 

From out our ample store, 
The rich proceeds of slaughtered swine 

Killed several days before ; 
Some sausages and tenderloins, 

And other savor}^ meat. 
Which to our city friends we knew 

Would be a welcome treat. 
I snuggled in between the two. 

My mother and her guest. 
While father stood in front to drive 

And see the way the best. 
How cheerily the sleigh bells rang 

While we pursued our way, 
And echoed through the leafless woods, 

Words fail me now to say. 
It was to me a joU}^ ride 

Clear to the river's shore, 
Where we expected in a boat 

Then to be ferried o'er. 
But lo, the river out of sight 

Beneath both ice and snow 



14 



Looked like a level whitened plain, 

Where, passing to and fro, 
Were sleds, and sleighs, and passengers. 

All moving in a line ; 
And viewing this, we too drove on. 

And thought it would be fine. 
We sped along upon the ice 

And soon the city gained. 
And made our visit to my Aunt, 

Where we to dine remained. 
When came the time to start for home, 

Once more within the sleigh, 
We strove again the ice to cross 

Before the close of day. 
The river reached, adown the slip, 

And on the ice once more, 
We little dreamed what would befall 

Ere reached the other shore. 
But Bob, then moved by some affright, 

Just what, I cannot tell, 
Began to run with all his might, 

And naught his speed could quell. 
My father stood and tightly drew 

The lines with all his force. 
While air-holes closely were approached 

By his unruly horse. 
The wind was strong, and father's hat 

Soon flew from off his head. 



15 



And then his wig, unloosened there, 

Flapped up and down, and fled. 
My father's cloak the wind stretched out 

Much like a comet's tail, 
And we, poor things, within the sleigh, 

Were stricken deathh^ pale. 
But this mad chase came to an end, 

With no one hurt the least. 
As father guided towards a wharf 

His very headstrong beast. 
This checked his wild career so much 

A man his bridle seized, 
And Bob, at length his temper cooled. 

Was settled down appeased. 
Thus stopped, about us came a crowd 

To see how we had fared, 
And gratulations kindly gave 

That we our lives were spared. 
My father's wig a friendly hand 

Gave back to him again, 
Another tendered him his hat 

Found on the icy plain. 
Thus put once more in moving trim, 

We started on our wa}^ 
And reaching soon our happy home. 

Closed an eventful day. 



i6 




UPS AND DOWNS. 

I had 1115' ups, I had my downs, 

Like any other boy, 
I had my play, I had my work, 

Nor was it always joy: 
Bnt now the several hurts I had 

Are paining me no more. 
And many pleasant memories 

Loom up ni}^ mind before. 
And if I tell a tragic tale 

And note a little woe, 
Just recollect it cites the past, 

And ended long ago. 
I then had caring for the sheep, 

And fed them every day, 



17 



And 'mongst the duties that I did, 

Was furnish them with hay. 
When'er I oped the sheep-house door, 

They gladly welcomed me, 
And bleated out their hungry wants 

As best they could decree. 
At first I let them quench their thirst 

With water from the well, 
Which I had pumped with many strokes, 

Till tired I befel. 
All in a row before the trough 

They put their noses in, 
And when they'd drank, I shoo'dthem back 

To stay the pen within. 
Then came the time to give them hay. 

Which once I thought to do. 
And up the mow I climbed intent, 

To put the matter through. 
But, high aloft, I missed my hold. 

And tumbled down below, 
A fall I had not reckoned on, 

As any one might know. 
My little head the foremost came. 

And struck a wooden sill, 
And there I lay just like one dead, 

All stunned, and dazed, and still. 
How long it was I do not know, 

But when I oped my eyes, 



Behold my sheep were viewing me 

With evident surprise. 
Then slowly rising on my feet, 

I felt my head was sore, 
And lo, the blood came trickling down 

My cheek all red with gore. 
And I was scared to find it so, 

And slowly took my way 
To tell my mother of my plight, 
And see what she would say. 
She saw her little boy before 

He reached the kitchen door. 
And hurried out to learn his woes, 

His troubles to explore. 
She saw that blood was on his face; 

It touched her tender heart; 
She gently took him by the hand. 

Condolence to impart. 
And then I told her how it was, 

And how my head was hurt. 
And showed her all my bloody stains 

And clothing stained with dirt. 
Then right away she washed my face 

And told me not to cry, 
Then put a plaster on my head. 

And bade me down to lie. 
'Twas supper- time, and then she gave 
To me a special treat. 



19 



Of things she knew I liked the best, 

And much enjoyed to eat. 
Then off to bed I straitl}^ went 

And slept till morrow morn, 
When, w^aking up, I wondered why 

My head felt so forlorn. 
And then I felt the plaster there, 

Remembering how it came, 
Then dressed myself and went about 

As ever much the same. 
My wound got well, the plaster off, 

I felt right well again, 
But where it was, no hair would grow 

As you may see quite plain. 




W^ZM 



ON HORSEBACK, 



In early days 'twas my delight 

To drive and ride a horse : 
And of the perilous haps I had 

This was the greatest source. 
With shining coat and noble form 

And gentleness and speed, 
No animal had half the charm 

That graced a gallant steed. 
No chance I missed to seize the rein 

Or mount a horse's back, 
And little thought I of the risk 

If prudence I should lack. 
And so it was, one summer eve, 

When all the work was done, 



My father ordered everj^ horse 

Out in the field to run. 
The field lay quite a space away 

A nice stretch for a ride 
So every one of father's men 

Took each a horse to stride. 
I saw them mount, but Prince was left 

And bridled for the fun ; 
So on his back I scrambled, proud 

Out with the rest to run. 
No saddles on to hold unto, 

Fast sped we down the lane, 
And frisky was my chosen pet 

As shortl}^ will be plain. 
Away I flew, nor danger knew 

Till bouncing towards his neck. 
Prince took the chance to play a trick 

I was too small to check: 
For high he kicked, as down a hill 

He swiftly made his way, 
And I was tossed completely off 

But held the reins to sta3^ 
And so I hung beneath his nose 

Till coming to a gate, 
He stopped, and let me touch the ground 

I'm happy to relate. 
No harm was done, except his hoof 

Struck gainst one foot of mine 
But no such little thing as that 

Made me more rides decline. 



In proof of this, I'll now relate 

Another escapade, 
Which happened as I rode on Mike, 

Nor was the least afraid. 
A letter I was asked to take 

About a mile away, 
And if I chose, I might ride there 

Upon our dappled grey. 
Of course I chose to ride the horse, 

For he was gay and kind ; 
So on his back I sallied forth, 

With happiness of mind. 
My way was by the old school house 

Where a b abs I learned. 
And now were scholars gathered there 

To morning school returned. 
There, girls and boys all whom I knew 

Gazed on me as I rode, 
And I was proud, as I discerned 

The envy that they showed. 
But very sure, it often is, 

"Pride goes before a fall;" 
And surely you'll have proof of it 

When heard my story all. 
The road was rough and frozen hard 

Where Mike pursued his way, 
And there before the children's eyes, 
Much to my sore dismay. 



23 



He stumbled down upon the ground 

With me upon his back, 
And fell upon one leg of mine, 

Prone on the wagon track. 
My other leg was loose enough, 

To kick him as he lay, 
And this bestowed, he quickly rose 

But pinned me down to stay; 
For on my leg, he placed his foot, 

Shod with an iron shoe, 
Until I gave another kick, 

When he his foot withdrew. 
Meanwhile I tightly held his rein, 

And gaining now my feet 
I led him to a fence near by, 

And on him took my seat. 
The ankle that he'd stood upon 

Was very sore hideed. 
But I did not disclose the fact, 

Tho' sadly it did bleed 
And soon I rode beyond the view 

Of all the scholars there, 
And did the errand sent upon 

With a determined air. 
Yet still within my heart, I felt, 

While jogging on my way, 
Quite mortified to think about 

What would the children sa^'. 



24 




THE BLACK LAMB. 

It was in day.s when I became 

Some eight or ten years old, 
My father had a dozen sheep 

To winter in his fold ; 
And thinking I had naught to do, 

But might serve usefully, 
He let me know, if I but chose 

His shepherd I might be. 
How pleased I was the flock to feed, 

And they were pleased with me. 
For Indian meal and turnips chopped, 

It gave them joy to see. 
I fed them hay and watered them, 

And bedded them with straw. 



25 



And proud I was of my white flock, 

Whose frisky plays 1 saw. 
Each early morn I hastened out 

To see how well they fared, 
And gave to them the hearty meal 

I had before prepared. 
Sometimes I found among the sheep 

A little lamb new-born, 
And then much pleased, I'd hurry home 

The family to inform. 
White were the sheep, and white the lamK'- 

Till came another day. 
When in I looked, and something black 

Upon the straw there lay. 
And what it was, I wondered much, 

When to my great surprise. 
Upon four feet it stood upright, 

And could I doubt my eyes ? 
Is it a lamb ? I asked myself. 

And soon I found 'twas so; 
For right away its white mamma 

For it her love did show. 
Then quickl}^ to the house I ran 

And told what I had seen, 
A little lamb as black as jet! 

Whatever could it mean ? 
"Thou surely art mistaken boy," 

My father calmly said; 



26 



But still I held that it was so, 

And I was not misled. 
"Well, if its black I'll give it thee," 

My father then replied; 
And I was overjoyed to learn 

The treasure I'd espied. 
Yet hardly did they all believe 

The news I to them told. 
When I invited all to go 
And look into the fold. 
And there before their wondering eyes 

As black as any crow, 
They saw, and could not doubt the fact, 

For what we see, we know. 
And now I owned a little lamb, 

And saw it day by day; 
A black and frisky growing lamb 
With white ones joined in play. 
And I was proud when it grew big, 

And long had grown its wool, 
For then I had it sheared right off 

And filled a big bag full. 
The wool I sold, and felt so rich 

I now could nice things buy, 
A pair of skates, a pocket knife. 
Or pretty kite to fly. 



27 




THE OWL, 

Hear now of the owl, 

That queerest of fowl; 
A quaint looking bird is he, 

With big open e3^es 

He looks very wise 
But only at night can he see. 

Two tufts on his head 

Like himself, brownish red, 
Perhaps you would call them his ears, 

But this they are not, 

In a different spot 
He catches whatever he hears. 

In day-time he hides 

Where darkness abides. 



28 



In cave, or an old hollow tree; 

Where he thinks to himself, 
I'm a safe little elf, 
And no one can ever catch me. 
But I was the boy 
The wit to employ 
To do it, as soon you will see, 
For I spied out a nest 
An owl then possessed 
Within an old apple tree. 
I said to myself. 
My queer little elf, 
I'll catch you as sure as can be; 
You screech so at night 
My sisters you fright, 
And you they shall certainly see. 
So a ladder I got, 
And climbed to the spot 
Which led to his nest in the tree, 
Then rolled up my sleeve, 
Nor thinking to leave, 
Until a caught-owl was he. 
I put in my hand, 
But came to a stand — 
The owl began to show fight; 
My hand I withdrew 
In haste, it is true — 
He bit me a very sharp bite. 



29 



So homeward I flew 

And what did I do, 
But put a thick glove on my hand, 

And then I was sure 

The owl to secure, 
For then, all his bites I could stand. 

Again I essaj^ed 

The owl-nest to raid. 
And lo, what a capture I made! 

A pretty red owl, 

A wise-looking fowl, 
Which, running right home, I displayed. 
' ' Is this the red sprite 

That shrieks so at night ? ' ' 
My sisters then queried with glee ; 
* ' ' Tis the very same bird ' ' 

I said, "you have heard 
Way up in the big locust tree." 

They looked him all o'er 

Behind and before. 
But wondered the most at his eyes; 

He gave not a blink, 

Nor offered to wink. 
And looked very solemn and wise. 

Now what shall we do 

To keep him in view, 
Was what they desired to know; 

Said one, in a cage 



30 



Put this little sage, 

But all of the others said, No, 
But placed in the barn 
He'd be out of harm; 

So into the barn he should go. 
'Twould there be so nice. 
For he can catch mice, 

Which often he seizes for prey; 
And there can abide. 
In dark places hide 

Away from the light of the day. 
So out I then went 
To do it full bent, 

And thought it a sensible freak; 
In the barn put the owl, 
The grave little fowl. 

And saw him fly up to the peak. 
What there the owl did 
From me was quite hid — 

He moused only when it was dark 
And I in my bed 
Had pillowed my head, 

And could not his doings remark. 
One day for a look. 
Occasion I took 

To view him again as before. 
Be he was'nt there. 
But probably where 



31 



He always had lived theretofore. 

And surel}^ that owl 

Did view with a scowl, 
The boy who had captured him so, 

And doubtless did teach 

His young ones to sCreech 
Quite fiercely, when viewing their foe, 

When under the trees 

Enjoying the breeze 
At night, any ventured to go. 

'Twas thus, Uncle Will 

One evening quite still, 
Was walking beneath a big tree, 

W^hen quick as a flash 

An owl made a dash 
As close to his head as could be. 

And Will did retreat 

W^ith hurrying feet 
No longer to linger out there; 

He verily thought 

Lest safety he sought, 
His head would be robbed of its hair. 

Now wasn't this one 

A loyal grandson 
Of him that I stole from the tree. 

Flew at uncle Will 

A pledge to fulfill 
His grandpa's avenger to be? 




THE KILL-SHEEP DOG. 

A tale of 1113^ childhood I now will unfold, 

Which never in verse, has ever been told. 

Another sheep story then let me relate, 

Which hearing, 'tis likely your hair will stand straight. 

It was a large flock my father had then, 

That pastured his fields, nor needed a pen. 

He thought it quite safe on warm summer nights, 

To let them stay out, not fearing afrights. 

A neighbor informed him, that on his own farm, 

The dogs on his sheep had inflicted great harm: 

These dogs went at night in quest of their prey. 

And did in the dark, what they dare not in day. 

My father then thought of a very good plan 

To save his nice flock ere the evil began. 



33 



There was a fine sheep that did lead all the rest, 

So to his man Henr3% he said "We had best 

Just catch the head sheep, on his neck hang a bell 

Which when he is running his movements will tell ; 

And when in the night we are slumbering in bed, 

If dogs chase the sheep by the bell-wether led, 

The bell will so jingle we surely will hear, 

And go out and shoot them if any appear." 

They caught that fine sheep, put on him a bell. 

But little foresaw what it would fortell. 

Then father's good gun he loaded with care, 

And Henry did his; so they were a pair. 

" Now Henry," said father, "if you in the night 

Should hear the sheep's bell in case of their flight. 

Arouse me from bed, and out we will go 

And level our guns on the blood-thirsty foe." 

To bed they both went; while slumbering there, 

A jingle out-doors disturbed the night air, 

It jingled so loudly my father awoke, 

And Henry arose, when to him he spoke. 

Then out they both hurried, in night-gown arra}^ 

Two ghostly sharp-shooters, determined to slay 

The first naughty dog that came in the way. 

They listened awhile, when down the back lane, 

The sheep came a running, with might and with main, 

The bell-sheep ahead, a ringing his bell. 

The others behind him, all rushing pell-mell. 

Then father caught sight of a big brindled cur. 



34 



A villainous fellow, 'tis safe to infer, 

He saw at full speed by the light of the stars, 

Right close to the sheep as they leapt o'er the bars. 

But just at that moment, loud rang the report 

Of father's good gun, which cut his life short. 

Thus killed, he could never do harm any more; 

So father and man went to bed as before. 

But I was asleep at the time it occurred, 

Nor heard the sheep-bell, or ever a word. 

And when in the morning, I heard them relate 

About the bad dog, and what was his fate, 

I put on my hat and hastened to see 

What kind of a dog a kill-sheep could be. 

I timidly went, but judge my surprise, 

When on him I looked, he opened his eyes! 

A little boy surely was never more scared 

Nor ran with a speed so little prepared. 

I said to my pa, "Why the dog is not dead, 

When on him I looked, he raised up his head!" 

Then father said ' ' Surely he fell down so flat 

I thought he was killed, and was certain of that. 

But if he's alive, that he suffer no more. 

Tell Richard to hasten and kill him before 

He's able to rise and to wander away 

Sheep-killing again at some future day." 

So Richard an axe seized quickly, and ran 

And finished the killing which father began. 

There lay the dead dog, and to take him away, 



35 



The boys undertook, on the very same day. 

They harnessed old Bob to my father's red cart, 

Then threw in the dog, and away the}' did start, 

And drove to a woods that was standing near by 

Then tipped up the cart, and there let him lie. 

Anon, in the air fl3'ing over the place, 

Great birds were seen sailing, all hailing from space. 

They circled, and circled, and circled around, 

Till downward they swooped and stood on the ground. 

And what do you think the}^ proceeded to do? 

You scarcely could guess, without taking a view: 

Those hungry black buzzards stood by the dead dog 

And feasted and fought for their dinners agog — 

So full they were glutted, they rested a day, 

Before they were able to flutter away; 

But once on the wing, they vanished from view. 

And sailed out of sight, far up in the blue. 



36 




SCHOOL DAYS 

At Baker's Comer, where I went 

In earliest days to school, 
Were many happy hours spent, 

Taught under school-marm rule. 
The little house stood 'neath great oaks, 

And out before the door, 
Two sassaf rases by the road 

Made its attractions more. 
Close in the rear, great forest trees, 

With open range between, 
Gave plenteous shade in summer time, 

When they were clad in green. 
It was indeed ideal ground 

For out-door sports and play, 



37 



And jolly times the children had 

In every fancied wa}^ 
A little way across the road 

The Baker family dwelt, 
Where candy and where ginger cake 

To hungry ones were dealt. 
A bucket dropped in Baker's well, 

By rope and windlass raised. 
Supplied the means to quench our thirst, 

While down its depths we gazed. 
It was a pleasant watering-place. 

And oft we lingered there 
When sent to draw its crystal draught, 

A pailful back to bear. 
One bright tin cup alone was used 

To serve the children all; 
No fear of any bad microbes 

Did any one appal. 
We all took dinner at the school, 

In baskets well supplied, 
And on a shelf, placed in a row, 

They sat there side by side. 
At noon the teacher gave the nod, 

And welcomed was the sign. 
For all the school at once began 

With one accord to dine. 
This done, they sallied out to play, 

Both boys and girls alike, 



38 



And for two hours the jo}" went on, 

Without a bat or bike. 
Bull-in-the-pen, Hot-buttered beans, 

x\nd many games of ball, 
A squirrel chase we often had, 

And merry w^ere we all. 
We Skinned the cat, and Jumped the rope. 

Played Tag, and Prisoners' base, 
Or took a turn at Blindman's buff, 

Or fleetly ran a race. 
Leaf houses, without architect, 

We built beneath the trees. 
In which we often crept to rest. 

And seek a little ease. 
The girls kept house in mimic way, 

With mossy carpets laid. 
While broken bits of china were 

Quite tastefully displayed. 
The cherry tree which stood near by, 

Its fruit more prized than pearls. 
The boys climbed up to shower down 

On aprons of the girls. 
And looking toward my father's farm, 

Its fields in easy view, 
There might be seen a row of men 

The harvest putting through. 
They swung their scythes in rythmic stroke, 

And laid the clover low, 



39 



And when their blades were fairly dull 

And quite unfit to mow, 
They would their scythes on handle stand, 

And then apply the stone, 
Which in a pouch about him girt 

Each man posse.ssed his own. 
'Twas then rang out the sounding scythe, 

A once familiar sound, 
A music now quite obsolete, 

With no successor found. 
And other sounds, the jangling bells 

That hiding cows betrayed, 
And tinkling ones upon the sheep 

A dreamy' music made. 
How often as we sat in school 

These sounds made entrance there. 
And other sounds more exquisite 

Came floating through the air; 
The bluejay rang a piercing note 

Atop some mighty tree, 
And many were the birds which sang 

That seldom now we see: 
There thrilled the wild wood-robin's note, 

From out some leafy shade, 
And sweeter than his roundelay 

Was never music made. 
I like to think of those old days, 

And pleasures then enjoyed. 



40 



While seldom with unpleasant things 

Were ever they alloyed. 
Yet youth nor age is quite exempt 

From trouble now and then, 
And I remember well ni}^ case, 

Which I'll proceed to pen. 
In school we had our daily tasks — 

We wrote and ciphered, too ; 
We read aloud, ranged in a class, 

The very best we knew. 
We even sketched in Indian ink. 

And made collections rare 
From poets now of old renown, 

To be preserved with care. 
It was sometimes our teacher's pride 

To have a marked display 
From those whose best acquirement 

In any lesson la3^ 
She thought, as now seems very clear, 

That it would charm the rest 
If two of us would read aloud 

In concert, at our best. 
She chose the brightest girl for one, 

But who should be her mate ? 
Alas ! how badly then I felt 

To find it was 77iy fate. 
To take my stand upon the floor 

Erect by Lydia's side. 



41 



My bash fulness could hardly bear, 

And I was sorel}- tried. 
While waiting thus, great silence reigned, 

For now the children all 
Were anxious to enjoy the treat 

Which from our lips should fall. 
I now forget the chosen piece, 

But most, my mind inclines, 
To think it was what Goldsmith wrote. 

Beginning with these lines : 
'Remote, U7ifi'iended , melancholy , slozv, 

Beside the lazy Scheld, or wa?idering Po.' 
These words, perchance, gave added force 

To all I felt within. 
As more unfriended, or more slow, 

I think I've seldom been. 
We started fair, but shall I tell 

The sequel of it all. 
And how I balked, then fully stopped, 

And what did me befal ? 
My utterance failed, I could not read, 

Though Lydia pity showed ; 
She was more brave, and but for me 

Her words had sweetly flowed. 
The teacher vexed, her order vain. 

She now resolved to try 
To stimulate my faculties. 

And punishment apply. 



42 



The ferule handiest to use, 

A ruler on her desk, 
She reached, and came right straight to nie, 

Nor wasted words expressed. 
I saw what fate was surely mine, 

When aimed that ruler so, 
And quickly put my book behind, 

To ward the coming blow. 
The book it struck, instead of me. 

And broken thus in twain, 
No more was it an instrument 

To ever use again. 
Quite failing thus to have her way, 

The teacher let me go, 
But promised at some future day. 

As I would surely know. 
To get a ruler strong enough 

To make my language flow. 
I had a little sister there, 

Who saw my sorry plight. 
With bosom filled with sympathy, 

And sobs and tears bedight. 
But I became a hero now. 

Although I did not read. 
And ever after I was blessed 

Such duty to be freed. 
And teacher, too, soon quite forgot 

The promise that she made, 



43 



And so henceforth were happ}^ all, 

With none to make afraid. 
The birds still sang upon the trees, 

The mower whet his scythe, 
The cow- bells echoed through the woods, 

Now joyous all, and blithe. 
That summer was a jolly time, 

As backward now I look, 
And think how I escaped a blow, 

By placing right a book. 



44 




HOW WISDOM BEGAN. 

What once there befel me, when older I grew, 

You are welcome to hear, if it interests you. 

I then enjoyed viewing the crops on the farm, 

And ever was ready to shield them from harm. 

My faithful dog Duko would follow me round, 

Whenever I walked to survey the tilled ground. 

One day, so it happened, we went to the field. 

Where wheat, newly sown, in green sprouts was revealed. 

Oh, how my heart bounded at seeing the change, 

To think of the beauty 'twould add to the grange. 

Just then a new object my vision engaged, 

A rooster led flock that my feelings enraged. 

This gay chanticleer just swung his claws there, 



45 



And tore up the wheat with a satisfied air [ 

Impatient I was, to charge on the foe, 

And to my dog Diiko I gave the word, " Go"[ 

" Catch, catch!" I exclaimed, "Catch, catch, you dumb brute, 

And rushed towards the fowls in a wrathful pursuit. 

But Duko, it seems, the point didn't see. 

And on me he leaped with intensified glee. 

Then, balked in my efforts, and fairly distraught, 

Redress for my trials in Duko I sought. 

" You scamp," I said, loudly, " I'll teach you what's what!" 

And where for to kick him I searched for a spot. 

I kicked! unimpeded my foot flew in air, 

And it went very high, for the dog wasn't there! 

If Duko'd been hit, it might have been well, 

But I was unbalanced, and flatl}^ I fell. 

My father, unknown to me, witnessed it all 

And laughed with a laughter 'tis sad to recall. 

The rooster, meanwhile, in the gallantest way. 

Kept on scratching seeds from out the loose cla^^ 

Though all was so painful, and foiled was my plan 

I learned that from trouble, man's wisdom began. 



46 




A PIG TALE. 

Wlien grown into manliood, and I had become 
A farmer at Linden, and that was my home, 
A cousin called on me, a farmer as well, 
When something that happened I'm going to tell: 
Linden was lovely that bright summer's day, 
The lawn with its trees and its floral display. 
Much pleasure it gave me to welcome my guest. 
And warm words of greeting were duly expressed. 
Then, seated in converse on man}^ affairs, 
We pleasantly rocked in the easy hall chairs; 
On matters of church and matters of state, 
We kept for a while a running debate; 
At length our pet subject of rural employ 
Asserted itself as the best to enjoy. 



47 



Then out for surveying the sights of the farm 
Together we went to partake of the charm, 
Now, when we had gone but a rod from the door, 
An object unwelcome we saw just before: 
It was a fine hog with a dignified air 
Enjoying the lawn — Oh, how did he dare! 
I own I was vexed as this grunter I saw, 
And proceeded at once to meet out the law : 
I called to old Banquo to chase out the brute 
And added ray own to my watchdog's pursuit. 
My cousin I told how I'd suffered of late 
From neighboring hogs running on m}^ estate ; 
And this very one had been there before 
With mischief portrayed on the nose that he bore. 
My cousin helped chase the naughty estray 
Who alwa3^s declined to go the right wa}^; 
For up and then down through bushes and ferns 
We chased him with vigor worth better returns. 
The weather was hot and exhausted at last 
The hog laid him down, for his breathing was fast. 
There lay the fat porker, some two hundred pounds- 
How now should we hustle him out of the grounds ? 
Just then I bethought of a nice little plan 
And called to my service a muscular man. 
A barrow was ordered, the hog on it laid. 
And out on the turnpike was safely conveyed. 
There, dumped on the ground supinely he lay, 
While we sauntered on our prearranged way. 



48 



We looked on the acres of corn and of wheat, 
The meadows so green, and the clover so sweet, 
The friskin<j of lambs, and the highly -bred kine. 
The chickens and ducks and even the swine. 
Then slowly retracing our steps to the lawn, 
To an unwelcome sight our attention was drawn: 
For, would you believe it, that very same hog 
In face of ourselves and Banquo the dog, 
Walked boldly before us, nor doubted his right 
And grunted a grunt of especial delight. 
Too much to behold, was his swaggering way. 
And I knitted my brow at the saucy display. 
Just then my man Patrick appeared on the scene, 
To whom now aroused, I imparted my spleen. 
This man had the care of my many fat swine, 
And knew all their faces and burly outline : 
He looked at me smiling, and then at the dog 
And quietly uttered, " Why boss, that's your hog." 

To a shepherd his sheep are never incog; 

Why then should a farmer not know his own hog? 



49 



